


Parasocial

by Virtual Revolutions (maidendays)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Idol AU, Kid Fic, M/M, parasocial relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maidendays/pseuds/Virtual%20Revolutions
Summary: "This is so surreal," mumbled Ryoken softly but notso softlythat Yusaku didn't hear. ".. I said that outloud, didn't I? I'm sorry, I'm a bit starstruck, it isn't every day that an idol visits my house."
Relationships: Fujiki Yuusaku/Revolver | Kougami Ryouken
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	Parasocial

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings for descriptions of: assault with a deadly weapon, blood and blood loss, stalker behavior, and intention to commit homicide.

_I can’t believe we’re going to meet PLAY_ ☆ _MAKER-chan!_

_Oh my god he’s so much cuter up close ahh~~_

_Ne~ ne~ Did you bring a shikishi board for me too~?_

_Ahh he’s smiling~ What an angel~_

Hearing the excited glee of his fans always put PLAY☆MAKER in a good mood even if the particular task of signing autographs was monotonous. Every flurry of permanent marker warmed his heart. In between signings he would glance out of the corner of his eye over at his manager, Kusanagi-san, who always sat beside him at autograph signings, watching his interactions with the fans with polite amusement.

"You're doing great," mumbled Kusanagi-san with a 'thumbs up' gesture. "30 more minutes until closing. Oh, she has a black tote. Do you need a metallic marker?"

PLAY☆MAKER nodded, taking a handful of permanent markers from Kusanagi-san and smiling up at the young woman as she laid down her tote on the table.

"Who should I make it out to?" he asked. "Rina, that’s a cute name! Do you prefer silver or gold ink? Ok~! Silver it is."

He signed the tote in an open spot and handed it back to her with both hands. "Thank you for your continued support, Rina-san!" he said sweetly, bowing his head a bit in gratitude. She piled on praise and adoration. He shook her hand as he wished her a good day; she walked off, squealing to her friends.

While the vast majority of fans were female, sometimes the odd male would materialize. There were two of them in line today. The first made his way to the front. Although not as experienced interacting with male fans, PLAY☆MAKER smiled all the same; a sweet, charming upturn of his glossy pink lips. The man seemed nervous. He wore sunglasses, in which PLAY☆MAKER's distorted reflection smiled back at him, and lowered a _shikishi_ board to the table.

"PLAY☆MAKER-san," he said softly, "Please make it out to 'Ryoken'. He's uh.. my brother." He showed PLAY☆MAKER a piece of paper with the name's common kanji writing scrawled on it.

PLAY☆MAKER beamed at the man and nodded. He reached for a black marker and centered the _shikishi_ board to sign it:

 _Ryoken-sama_ ,

_Thank you for supporting me!_

_(-^〇^-)_

_PLAY☆MAKER ♡_

He handed the board back to the man with both hands, his smile never wavering. The man nodded, and awkwardly thanked PLAY☆MAKER, walking away.

The second man walked forward and greeted him; he wore a hoodie and a face mask. He held out the insert for the jewel case with both hands.

"Do you have many male fans?" the man whispered.

PLAY☆MAKER smiled and said, "I'm grateful for all my fans." The man didn't respond, hands disappearing into his hoodie.

PLAY☆MAKER brushed off the man's odd behavior, and flipped to the cutest picture of himself that he could find. He signed the insert in gold marker with an extra cute kaomoji. Handing it back with both hands, he said with a cheery smile, "Thank you for supporting me."

The man nodded, withdrawing a hand from his hoodie to take the insert, his other hand—

PLAY☆MAKER felt a sharp pain on his palm, then gasped upon seeing a line of red. Screams and shouts rang out all around him.

_"He has a knife!"_

_"He cut PLAY☆MAKER!!"_

_"Don't let him get away!"_

_"Is PLAY☆MAKER all right!?"_

_"PLAY☆MAKER-chan!!"_

PLAY☆MAKER stumbled backward with another series of gasps, nearly knocking over the chair he had been sitting in, the pain becoming so searing hot he could barely see through overflowing tears. With sudden lightheadedness he lost his balance, Kusanagi-san catching him, Kusanagi-san yelling "Did they get him!?" into the descending chaos of the fleeing crowd.

_"Today's event has ended. Please leave in an orderly fashion. Patrons who were unable to complete the Meet and Greet will receive a voucher to redeem at a future event. We apologise for the inconvenience."_

_"We don't care about compensation! Can't you see PLAY☆MAKER is bleeding?!!!!"_

_"Bleeding?!! Is he bleeding out?!"_

_"PLAY☆MAKER-chan!! PLAY☆MAKER-chan!!!"_

Kusanagi-san cradled him, mumbling near his ear and putting pressure on his hand. "Stay with me Yusaku, you're okay, stay with me, help is on the way."

☆★☆

At some point PLAY☆MAKER, real name _Fujiki_ _Yusaku_ , awoke to the stark whiteness of a hospital room. His injured hand had been bandaged so thoroughly it resembled a catcher's mitt. He felt like he had slept for years, groggy. Kusanagi-san was asleep at the side of his hospital bed. Yusaku smiled. The man had always looked out for him.

Instinctively Yusaku reached for his phone, grasping only air. Oh, of course, he was in the hospital, his phone was probably with his idol clothes and wig in a hospital locker somewhere. _His clothes._ His clothes were likely ruined after being stained with so much blood. Too bad, he liked that outfit, the shorts were cute.

He shook Kusanagi-san's arm. The other man hummed in response then yawned before suddenly sitting up in surprised relief, "Yusaku! You're finally awake!"

"Uh yeah," acknowledged Yusaku with an amused smile. "How long was I out?"

"Thank god! Err.. they had to stitch up your hand and hook you up to the IV for monitoring. It seemed like you'd lost so much blood, but the doctor said you were lucky that the bastard didn't succeed in striking a major artery. How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Though that's probably the blood loss, heh. I can't feel my hand."

"The doctor said it might take some time for sensation to return. They used a very strong local anesthesia."

"Oh.. I'll be patient then… by the way, did security catch him?"

"Oh they never got a chance—"

"So he got away?" assumed Yusaku automatically, terrified at the prospect.

"Ah no, actually, it's kind of amazing, that guy who was in line before him ran after him, tackled him and pinned him to the ground. Security said they had never seen anything like it. Real hero moment."

"The guy who.." Yusaku struggled to remember; everything before the attack felt hazy.

"You know, that tall guy who said the autograph was for his brother? He was kind of awkward. Sunglasses."

"Oh! That guy? He was really thin, wasn't he? _He_ caught the attacker?"

"Yeah! I dunno, maybe he's an athlete or something?"

"Wonder if I know him…"

"Hey Yusaku.. listen.. the attacker. The police found a shrine of PLAY☆MAKER at his apartment. He had torn out and stabbed dozens of photo book pictures. They also found his browsing history.. he'd been on an anonymous celebrity message board claiming you had broken his heart by giving attention to other male fans. He'd asked anons on the board what he should do. They said.." Kusanagi-san abruptly stopped, shaking his head, "I really shouldn't be telling you this, it's so disturbing…"

"It's okay," said Yusaku with a brave smile. "I want to know."

Kusanagi-san nodded, took a deep breath and, distressed, said, "They said he should kill you, that he'd be justified in murdering you. Said it was the only way he could claim you for himself. Said that in death your soul would be bound to his."

Yusaku shivered, disturbed. "Wow that's.. that's really out there, isn't it? People like that really exist, huh?"

"As your manager I've spent a considerable amount of time looking into obsessive fan behavior. But I've never seen something so malicious. Killing someone to own their soul? Binding them in death? It sounds like something out of a horror movie."

Yusaku nodded with a grimace. "You don't have to traumatize yourself for my sake. We can't control what netizens say or think."

"Regardless, I failed you, Yusaku. That bastard hurt you and I wasn't able to stop him. I should have had security do a full check of all attendees. The metal detector didn't pick up the weapon because it was ceramic. He knew exactly how to fool security."

Yusaku suddenly remembered the attacker's eyes, intense, narrowed, strange. He had come to the Meet and Greet already thinking PLAY☆MAKER had betrayed him. Had he attacked because he had seen how PLAY☆MAKER had interacted with the other male fan at the event? Yusaku shivered again; parasocial relationships were fundamental in his line of work, but for a fan to take their obsession _this_ far….

Yusaku suddenly felt an overwhelming need to _thank_ the man who had caught his attacker. But how could he find him? And, if he did somehow find his hero, what could he possibly say or do to fully convey his gratitude?

☆★☆

As it turned out Kusanagi-san knew a guy who knew a guy _who knew a guy_ who was a private investigator. Yusaku didn't understand how, _and hoped it hadn't been obtained illegally_ , but the contact had found the man's address. 

So here was Yusaku standing in front of the man's house holding a signed advance copy of PLAY☆MAKER's upcoming summer concept photo book, and a small but delightfully ornate bouquet of flowers. 

Yusaku gathered his nerves and rang the doorbell, hoping his street clothes and non-made up face would suffice. At first it seemed like no one was home but then he heard shuffling from beyond the door and it opened. Standing there was his hero with the most dazzling pair of eyes Yusaku had ever seen and a perplexed expression.

"Can I help you?"

Ah, so he was completely unrecognizable, perfect.

"Sorry for showing up suddenly like this. I just wanted to thank you for the other day."

His hero, a man of such beauty Yusaku wished he could receive _his_ photo book, blinked in response. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit confused, what did I do for you?"

Yusaku smiled. "You stopped the attacker at PLAY☆MAKER's Meet and Greet."

The man frowned, clearly still confused. "I only restrained him until event security could take over, it wasn't that big of a deal…"

Yusaku held out his non-injured hand, presenting the gifts for the man to take, his smile never wavering. "It was a big deal for _me_." 

The man took the gifts without really looking at them. "I'm sorry, _who_ are you?"

Yusaku, figuring he already looked ridiculous with a bandaged hand hanging limply at his side, recited PLAY☆MAKER's introduction, "A brilliant shining star, the prince of strategy from the future, hi I'm PLAY☆MAKER!" and capped it off with the accompanying tilted salute.

His hero immediately stumbled backwards in wide-eyed shock, nearly bumping into a little boy who suddenly came running to the door, a thin and pretty older woman chasing after him. The little boy could have been his hero's clone, they looked so much alike.

"Syo-chan! Don't run!" pleaded the woman. "Ryoken, please grab your brother before he— oh, hello there!" said the woman in a rush upon seeing Yusaku, managing to catch up to the boy and scoop him up into her arms.

"I can't—" began his hero, trailing off in shocked silence. Yusaku dropped his idol pose and bowed to the woman.

"My my, aren't you a cutie, are you here for Ryoken? I'm so glad, he doesn't have many friends and I— Syo-chan! Don't kick! I'm so sorry, it's hard being a single mother and— Oh I'm rambling, aren't I? Ryoken, since we're about to have tea, your friend should join us."

It was Yusaku's turn to be surprised. "Oh I couldn't possibly—"

"No, no, please, I insist. Ryoken show your friend inside while I get Syo-chan settled." The woman walked off, carrying the squirming little boy with her.

"So you _do_ have a brother…"

"Huh?"

"Your mother is very nice," said Yusaku nonchalant, as if that's _all_ he had said. "But I just came here to thank you, and I've done that so I'll go now."

His hero was now blushing. "I uh.. my mother would be very upset if you left.. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, I know you have a busy schedule..." He bowed.

"I don't wish to overstay my welcome."

"I would be honored if you joined us."

Yusaku smiled. "All right."

His hero, _Ryoken_ , looked very happy for a moment before composing himself, taking on the air of a cool beauty. "Please come in."

Yusaku entered the house, shuffling off his shoes in the entryway. The main room was small with modest furniture. Bright toys littered the floor, photos and clippings decorated the walls, and overstuffed bookshelves appeared to take up whatever additional space there was. Crowded for sure but still far more inviting than his company's dorms.

"Sorry for the mess," said Ryoken, stepping around Yusaku to put the bouquet in an empty vase, and place the photo book on a high shelf. Then he bent down to clear the path to the dining table, gathering up an armful of stuffed animals, blocks, and action figures, setting them aside in a corner. "Syo just turned 5 and he's going through a throwing phase."

"Your home is cozy," said Yusaku. "I like it."

"This is so surreal," mumbled Ryoken softly but not _so softly_ that Yusaku didn't hear. ".. I said that outloud, didn't I? I'm sorry, I'm a bit starstruck, it isn't everyday that an idol visits my house."

Yusaku caught himself staring into Ryoken's stunning steel blues for longer than he should have; maybe his attacker _did_ have a reason to be jealous, heh. "I don't mind."

"I'm so embarrassed, I'm just going to stop talking now."

Yusaku watched Ryoken clear the dining table. His mother reappeared carrying the little boy, now wearing a bib and nursing a sippy cup, and set him down at the table in a booster seat. Ryoken smiled at the little boy and ruffled his hair.

Yusaku could see the love they all had for one another; he felt a pang of loneliness at the thought. Yusaku had never had that sort of relationship with his own family; his father was a film actor who was always traveling for work, his mother was a news anchor and program host who he'd grown up seeing more through the glass of his TV than in person, and he had no siblings. Kusanagi-san was more family to him than his own family; he always had been.

With his famous parents Yusaku had grown up under pressure to make it big in the arts. His mother had tried for many years to develop him into a classically-trained actor, but to her disappointment he'd shown little interest in the genres his parents thought were respectable. Then she'd hired a private tutor to teach him violin and piano, but he'd never taken to classical music. She'd landed him modeling gigs with prestigious fashion houses, but the directors had complained that although he was beautiful he was also difficult to work with — it wasn't his fault he found that kind of serious modeling to be stiff and boring. Eventually she'd allowed him to go to a private school full time to experience life as a 'normal' kid, as illusionary as that was given how much money she had 'donated' to the school in exchange for the administrators enrolling him in the elite course. He wished she had let him go to a public school instead. He didn't feel like he belonged at the private school; his test scores were average and he didn't like snobby people.

After a few years Yusaku had mostly become a ghost on campus. He'd attended classes speaking only when spoken to, and split the rest of his time studying in the library, or exploring personal interests from the privacy of his room. In solitude he discovered idols: beacons of light shining into his dreary world, people whose only job was to bring happiness to others, people who always smiled and cheered up their fans. He could do that. He could be an idol. He reached out to Kusanagi-san himself; he didn't need his mother's approval. She wouldn't approve anyway.

And, predictably, when she found out she was angry with him, telling him idols weren't real artists, saying that idols would never be respected by those in the industry, lamenting that he was throwing his talent and good looks away, declaring that no respectable son of hers would ever work in such a shameful industry, citing cases where failed idols had turned to pornography after their popularity had tanked.

He didn't care; he wanted to be an idol. So he became an idol.

To her surprise he rose fast in popularity, moving from small venues to theaters and eventually selling out concert halls. _"It's all that time and effort I put into sending you to acting classes and vocal coaching,"_ she had said after seeing how he had clearly proven her wrong. _"You're popular because you're trained. Most idols have no skills. I helped you get this far. Never forget that."_ As an idol he had trained himself to smile through criticism and hardship; his calm reaction to her taking credit for his hard work had surprised her. She had left that day wishing him good fortune. It wasn't a blessing, but it was the most supporting she had ever been of any of his personal ambitions. He wouldn't wish for more from her; she would never change.

Ryoken's mother beamed at him. "I didn't get your name, dear?"

Yusaku smiled. "It's Fujiki. Like wisteria."

"Oh that's my favorite flower. What a lovely name. Ryoken, isn't it lovely?"

To his credit Ryoken had managed to contain his reaction to nothing more than a polite nod.

"Well you kids get settled in. I have some dishes to finish washing, shouldn't take too long."

Ryoken's mother hurried over to the kitchen, humming to herself. The sound of running water echoed throughout the room.

"RyoRyo.." said the boy, yanking on Ryoken's shirt and pointing to Yusaku. "Who is he?"

RyoRyo. _Cute_.

Ryoken cleared his throat. "You've seen him on TV, Syo-chan."

"TeeBii?"

"Yes, TV."

Yusaku smiled at the boy, pointing at the action figure he was tapping on the table. "Like your action hero."

"Ultraman!" chirped the boy, giggling.

"Ultraman," repeated Yusaku, doing an imitation of a hero pose.

The boy giggled and clapped.

Ryoken blinked. "You're amazing," he said in awe, appearing to forget his embarrassment.

"I once auditioned for a hero show. I guess I remembered the pose."

"When was that?" asked Ryoken, eyes sparkling with interest.

"Maybe 6 years ago? It was before my—" Yusaku caught himself. "Before I became an idol."

"I feel like I should be paying to ask questions, so please forgive my casual words."

"As long as your questions aren't about anything lewd—"

"No! Of course not! I mean…" Ryoken was blushing again.

Yusaku found himself staring _again_. He couldn't help it. Ryoken was seriously way too cute. Yusaku laughed behind his hand, gentle, polite. "You may ask."

Ryoken cleared his throat, appearing dignified. "What did you do before your debut?"

Yusaku hummed. "A little of everything, really. Acting, singing, modeling, piano… oh, there was that time I tried screenwriting.."

"Wow.."

"I wasn't good at most of it…"

"I find that hard to believe… you're an amazing vocalist, actor and dancer."

Yusaku smiled, although he didn't like being fawned over like this. "I pick up choreography easily, but my technique is lacking. I couldn't pass a dance audition."

"Of course you could!" said Ryoken, sounding a little affronted. "You were ranked in the top 10 idols nationwide last year. Your most recent concert sold all 10,000 tickets in less than a minute. You're growing a fanbase overseas. Your last single hit number 2 on the Oricon charts. Your handshake events are nearly impossible to get into. You're about to have your first overseas tour. You're amazing."

Yusaku hoped his smile didn't look fake; he was trying to keep a calm expression but he was really beginning to fall for this man's natural beauty. "I work hard. But I still have a lot to learn.."

"Yes, of course, I didn't mean to imply—"

Ryoken's mother appeared then, looking flustered. "I'm so sorry, dear, I forgot to turn on the kettle. The water is heating up now. It's my own special blend. Trust me, it's worth the wait…. oh my, what happened to your hand?"

Yusaku grimaced. He'd forgotten his injured hand was resting on the table. He really didn't want to burden Ryoken's mother with this. "It's my fault. I was careless. Please don't worry, it's healing."

If Ryoken's mother had anything more to say, it was interrupted by Syo-chan dropping his sippy cup onto the floor. "Syo-chan!" she cried. "Stop throwing things."

The little boy made a face then threw his Ultraman figure to the floor, looking very proud of himself.

"I'll get it, Mother," said Ryoken, but the woman shook her head.

"Syo-chan," she said, frustrated. "We have a guest. Please behave."

"Ultraman!" cried the boy. "Want Ultraman!"

"You threw Ultraman, so Ultraman is staying on the floor for now."

The boy began to cry. Ryoken looked like he was about to take action, but again his mother stopped him. Ryoken looked at a loss. Yusaku felt empathy for the woman.

"Ryoken, please wait with your friend in your room. I'll bring the tea there instead."

Yusaku looked alarmed. "Ma'am, it's fine, I really should be going—"

"It's all right, dear. Shouldn't take more than 5 minutes. I apologize for Syo-chan's behavior."

Yusaku knew he was beaten. Ryoken's mother was a force of nature. It would be terribly impolite to turn her down. "Thank you for your hospitality."

The boy continued to wail. Ryoken stood, looking mortified with the turn of events. Yusaku politely stood as well, not sure what to do.

Fortunately Ryoken took the lead. "My room is this way…"

Yusaku nodded, forcing a smile, and followed him down the hallway.

☆★☆

Ryoken _was_ mortified. _Truly_ mortified. He wanted to die so that he could prostrate himself before the Fates and beg for a do-over of the last hour of his life.

His idol, PLAY☆MAKER, had come to his house, personally, alone, to thank him. That was insane. He was so incredibly lucky.

But then his stressed mother, bless her, not knowing who was at the door, had insisted his idol join them for tea. In their house. In their _messy_ house. With his misbehaving baby brother _in_ the house.

His idol, who must be in so much pain from the attack, had actually accepted the offer. He _should_ have turned them down, but he accepted it with a gracious, beauty smile. Ryoken wished his idol had turned them down, then he wouldn't have had to witness the embarrassing chaos in Ryoken's house.

And now his idol, at the insistence of his frazzled mother, bless her again, was _in his room_ looking at all his stuff. At all his _PLAY☆MAKER_ stuff. Looking at the PLAY☆MAKER posters on his walls, looking at the PLAY☆MAKERplushies on his bed, looking at the PLAY☆MAKER figures on his desk, looking at the PLAY☆MAKER photo books and cds on his shelves, looking at the PLAY☆MAKER keychains and can badges and charms on his itabag, looking, _looking_ , _**LOOKING**_. 

Ryoken seriously wanted to die.

"Wow.." said his idol after a long time, smiling, angelic. "Thank you for your support."

 _Thank you for your support, you disgusting otaku_ is what his idol meant, of course. Who wouldn't be disgusted seeing the sheer volume of idol merch Ryoken had accumulated over the last few years? It was shameful. Obsessive. Overwhelming.

"I hadn't seen a lot of this stuff before. Like the figures. This one is pose-able, right?" His idol was pointing out the limited edition PLAY☆MAKER 1/3 scale ball-jointed doll he had purchased during the super fan special prize lottery last year. "The stitchwork on the outfit is so detailed. How much was it?"

"50,000 yen," mumbled Ryoken, wishing he could sink through the floor and disappear.

"That's kind of expensive, isn't it?"

 _How much money have you spent coveting my likeness? It's creepy._ is what his idol meant.

"A bit," replied Ryoken, wondering if it were possible to spontaneously combust from humiliation.

His idol frowned. "I don't like that the merchandisers sell my goods for so much. This stuff is really cool, it should be attainable by all my fans."

_What? He thinks it's cool?_

"Y-yeah," agreed Ryoken, sounding stupid.

His idol turned back to him, the angelic smile returning. "How long have you been a fan?"

Ryoken gulped. "Since uh.. your debut.. I bought the first extended play after seeing a fancam of your first live."

His idol's expression turned thoughtful. "The first live.. I was so nervous that day. I'd never performed in front of a crowd who didn't know who I was. I think I forgot the choreo halfway through.. it's embarrassing to reflect on. That was already 4 years ago, huh."

Ryoken found some courage. "It was a cute performance. I was really impressed with your charisma."

His idol blinked, tilting his head to the side, adorable. "Yeah? Well I'm glad."

There was a knock on the door. Ryoken rushed to take the tea tray from his mother, assuring her with a soft smile that she didn't have to come in. She gave him a confused look but nodded and left, closing the door behind her. Ryoken locked it immediately.

His idol was now sitting on the bed, elegant, practiced. Ryoken set the tea tray on his desk and poured them both a cup. The tea gave off a sweet floral aroma. Bless his mother for having excellent taste. He offered a cup to his idol, who took it with a soft _thank you_ , then took a seat in his desk chair.

"This smells great," said his idol. "Your mother prepared the blend?"

"She has a garden out back. Tea is a hobby of hers."

His idol took a sip, his pretty green eyes lighting up with delight. "I like it. A lot actually. Please give your mother my regards."

Ryoken nodded, taking a sip himself. "I will."

They descended into silence, his idol drinking the tea while looking at the room again, Ryoken thinking about the absurdity of the whole situation.

"So, what do you do?" asked his idol, surprising Ryoken out of his thoughts.

"Do?" asked Ryoken, setting his empty cup on the desk.

"Yeah, _do_."

"I manage the calendar on the PLAY☆MAKER fansite: _Strategic Prince_ , and organize group orders of albums and photo books."

His idol shook his head. "Sorry, I meant what do you do outside of fan activities. School, work?"

_Wait… he's interested in my personal life? Why?_

"I'm a college sophomore, and I have a part time job at a cafe."

"What are you majoring in?"

"Culinary arts."

"So you cook? Bake?"

"A bit of both."

"What do you like to make?"

"Pastries are my favorite, but I just enjoy creating food."

"Where did your interest in cooking come from?"

_Huh? Shouldn't he be finding an excuse to leave? Isn't it inappropriate for us to be so casual?_

"My parents divorced a few months before Syo was born. My mother was in a lot of pain at the time. She spent months in the hospital. I wanted to cheer her up, so I tried cooking. I discovered I wasn't half bad at it. I ended up enjoying it enough to want formal training. I hope to make a career out of it someday. For now it's nice being able to take care of family meals, give my mother a break... she works so hard for us."

Something about his idol's expression seemed _off_. Ryoken wondered if he'd said too much.

Then his idol set the cup on the floor and leaned forward, an pensive expression settling over his face. Ryoken had never seen his idol make that sort of expression before. He felt like he was in the most VIP of VIP settings. Seeing something other fans hadn't seen.

"You're the whole package," said his idol.

_Huh? What is he saying?_

"I don't understand.."

"You cook, take care of your family, chase after and tackle bad guys, and you're insanely hot. The whole package."

_**Huh?** _

"... what?"

His idol smiled, except it wasn't any sort of smile Ryoken had ever seen on his idol. It was coy. _Sexy_.

"Why did you lock the door?" asked his idol, getting up from the bed, approaching the desk chair, gazing down at Ryoken with a sultry gaze. "Were you hoping something would happen?"

_**What in the world?!** _

"Of course not! I just wanted to give us privacy."

"Why? We're strangers. I'm an idol, you're a fan. Being alone like this is taboo. You must know that?"

"I… I know that!"

"And yet, you locked the door."

"I….."

His idol was supposed to be cute, angelic, innocent.

But his idol was now leaning over him, smirking, seductive.

"I came here to thank you…." 

"You already have! I'm honored beyond words! I… I…."

His idol tipped up Ryoken's chin with his pointer finger and thumb, and placed a soft kiss on Ryoken's lips, immediately pulling away, his innocent, angelic expression already back in place.

While Ryoken gaped in shock, his idol grabbed a pen, wrote something quickly on a note square, ripped the sticky note off its pad, and placed the note in Ryoken's hand.

"You have a good mother. Be sure to cherish her every day."

"I... I... I…..."

"Thanks for the tea."

Only after his idol had left the room did Ryoken dare to glance down at the note:

_Ryoken-sama,_

_I could use a strong guy like you on my security detail._

_My number is ***-****, call me ( ^ ᴗ -)☆_

_PLAY☆MAKER ♡_

**Author's Note:**

> I took a break from writing the final installment of Hacking His Heart to dig through some old wips. Found a very early draft of this fic, and decided to try finishing it. The end result is probably a bit rough, but considering _Parasocial_ is a realistic take on an Idol AU I'm happy with how it turned out.
> 
> Thank you for reading! ❤


End file.
